


Fair Looks and True Obedience

by spuffyduds



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: BDSM, Begging, M/M, Mind Control, Negotiations, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuffyduds/pseuds/spuffyduds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles is a bit surprised by what Erik is asking for, but he does his best to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair Looks and True Obedience

**Author's Note:**

> The mind-control aspect results in this being a role-play non-con situation of sorts, just so you know!

Charles lowers his newspaper, looks over it at Erik.

"You're joking,” he says.

"Clearly, because lighthearted buffoonery is my métier.”

Charles snorts indelicately and butters his last slice of toast. "Well, perhaps you _think_ you mean it," he says.

"Patronizing, Charles," Erik says. "And why don't you check and _see_ if I mean it."

Charles smiles but he's gone tense because this, this is a rare invitation. To walk around in Erik's mind, wanted, welcome...

Erik's smile gets a little tighter and he says, "Only check _that_ , Charles."

"Of course."

Charles does the fingers to the temple thing--he doesn't really need to anymore, not with all the practice he's been getting, not with a single subject who's willing and sitting just across the breakfast table. But it always amuses Erik, and yes, Erik's posture loosens, his grin looks more real.

And Charles strolls into his mind, and, oh. My. He _was_ serious. He's picturing himself mind-controlled, stretched out naked and Charles _ordering_ him, to do--things, and--and every emotion curled around this imagery is desire and _yes_ and need and want and _yes_.

Charles gasps, finds himself back in his own consciousness, Erik looking at him with amusement.

"That was, ah. That certainly did seem. Sincere. Yes. Indeed," Charles babbles.

"Would I lie?"

"Certainly you would, but apparently you weren't. I'm surprised, though, that you're truly interested in that."

"Why?"

"Well, giving up control doesn't seem very like you, and, given your history. Well." There's probably a way to discuss it that wouldn’t be absurdly awkward and hurtful, but Charles can't imagine what it is. The brief splintered glimpses he's gotten of adolescent Erik's treatment at the hands of--Schmidt, Shaw, whoever he is really--largely served to convince Charles that he desperately doesn't want to know any more about that, ever. From just those fragments, though--if Charles had had anything remotely like that happen to him, even once, he's quite certain he would never volunteer to give up control of the tiniest portion of his life to anyone, ever again.

And Erik is _asking_ to be mind-controlled? In bed?

"I just--let's try it another way. Let me just give you orders, verbally."

Erik grins, showing all his teeth, and leans over the table until he's in Charles' face. And even knowing Erik for so well and so long, even knowing that they’re perfectly matched in power, Charles can't help flinching back, just a tiny bit, from the menace in Erik's smile.

And Erik breaks out into one of his rare loud whoops of a laugh, leans back in his chair and says, "Yes, Charles, and how well does that usually work?"

"Hmm, point," Charles says ruefully. "But it just--in your case it doesn't seem like it could possibly be a healthy--"

"I'll thank you to let me decide that," Erik says. His voice has gone a bit chill.

"Sorry. Yes. Of course you should," Charles says. "I just--I've never done that to a partner, not since I could control it."

"There's a story _there_ ," Erik says.

"Yes, yes, this one bird I was--she was perfectly willing to begin with and I didn't even realize I'd _done_ any sort of mental nudge, much less made it repeating like an alarm clock."

Erik makes a "go on" motion.

"Well, the day after we'd had a go at it she walked into my digs and started just peeling off her clothes in my dining room, which I'd apparently planted in her head the night before, only this evening, um. Raven was there for dinner. Along with my mother. And her bank manager."

When Erik's stopped laughing again Charles says, "Well, yes, I got better about not accidentally sending out that sort of order. And I would feel...very strange about doing it on purpose. Can't we just--how we've been, that isn't working for you?" And he bites his tongue, too late, because that sounded dreadfully needy.

"Of course it is," Erik says, reaching out and running a thumb across Charles' lips. "You have crumbs," he says, "and butter," and he licks his thumb, which is most unfair. "But this...this sounds so good to me, Charles. Good, and...terribly exciting and _restful_ at the same time."

"Ah," Charles says, which is the best he can manage after watching the thumb-licking.

"We can draw up," Erik says, "a contract." He stands up, comes over to Charles' side of the table, gets his hands on Charles' shoulders and begins to rub, which is another piece of extreme unfairness.

"A...contract?" Charles says. "That seems rather...formal."

"Wouldn't you feel better for it, though? I don’t want to know what you’re going to tell me to do, exactly, ahead of time. But we could agree that you would only choose from a specified list of, ah, orders. Like a menu. That you could only order me to do things that we've already done and I was enthusiastic about."

"I, uh, don't recall anything we've done that you weren't enthusiastic about."

Erik leans forward, cocks an eyebrow at him. "Are you calling me undiscriminating?"

"No, I'm saying that clearly I'm magnificent in bed."

"Well. True."  
________________________________________

It takes three days for them to finish drawing up the contract. Erik keeps remembering things they've done that he liked, and Charles, terrified of doing something that Erik is going to hate him for afterward, keeps cautiously nailing down specifics, until every option is described in what Erik irritably calls "a novelistic level of detail."

And of course they're carrying on with their daily lives at the same time, training the younger mutants and convincing the household staff not to run away screaming and keeping up their own practicing with their powers, attempting to up the intensity without losing the delicate control. The work on the contract is usually done at night, but once Erik leans over near Charles' ear at the dinner table, surrounded by all the recruits, and whispers, "We haven't written down anything yet about me licking your ass—I quite liked that," and Charles nearly chokes on his string beans.

He gets his own back when Erik is having a stick-fight with Raven and Charles beams into his mind, //what about bending you over the back of the couch? can that go on the list? you seemed to enjoy it// and Erik freezes. Raven clocks him in the face with the stick and then apologizes for ten minutes.

But finally they have it done, details and specifications and positively lawyerly clauses and all. They don't get around to using it the first night after its completion, though, because Erik grouses about it being twenty-seven pages, and Charles says that clearly Erik intentionally made his handwriting huge when he was transcribing it so that he could then mock Charles for overspecificity, and Erik zings a comb across the room to smack Charles in the back of the head, and Charles shoots him a picture of the aforementioned sex over the back of the couch, and then. Well. They never get around to the mind control because they're having sex over the back of the couch.

The next night, though, they both make excuses and retire early, and then Charles slips down the hall to Erik's room. (He supposes that might be more comfortable surroundings for Erik to lose control in, although he's not entirely certain; Erik's room is so Spartan and monkish, perhaps it would actually be better in Charles' room, where Erik can enjoy the luxury a bit, guilt-free, because it wasn't his idea. Too late, though, they've made the plans.)

Charles opens the door and slips in, and Erik offers him a drink, and they go through a period of--chit-chat. Charles isn't probing, but when he's been as close to someone for as long as he and Erik have been, there's a certain low-level awareness he can't prevent himself from having, a shimmer of emotion at the edges of his consciousness, and Erik is, actually, nervous.

Charles takes a swallow of his scotch-and-soda to keep from sighing aloud. He's going to have to call a halt to this, and he's not looking forward to the argument; it won't be one of their fun ones. And, he has to admit, what with all the terribly specific detail they've been putting in the contract, he's also inclined to sigh because he'd begun to quite look forward to the evening.

Erik speaks first, though, says, "Yes, I'm nervous."

Charles blinks at him.

"I'm _aware_ you pick up my emotional states, when I have them," Erik says, smiling as if that were a normal qualification to have to make. "I do pay attention, you know. But you needn't worry--it's not because I'm afraid I won't enjoy it, or that you'll do anything I wouldn't like."

"Well, then, what?"

"I...can we just say I'm not nervous about anything important and carry on?"

"No," Charles says, and for once, even after Erik crosses his arms and glares he remains implacable. He would do almost anything for Erik, except actually damage Erik.

"Fine," Erik says, runs a hand through his hair. "I. It's just. Oh hell," and he waves a hand at his head and simply says, "Come on in."

Charles does, and to his astonishment what he seems there is a muddled little movie of Erik bending to Charles' will (and bending in a great many other impressive ways, my god...) and Charles being...repulsed.

Thinking less of Erik, thinking him less of a _man_.

"Oh dear _god_ Erik, no," he says. "No no no. How can you even think--no. I think it's spectacularly _brave_ , you idiot."

"Ah," Erik says, and goes noticeably less tense. (Well, noticeably to Charles, which means he's gone from "apparently has metal implant in spine" to "merely a spectacular example of upright posture.")

"So," Charles says.

"So," and Erik smiles, one of his rare sweet smiles without a hint of mockery.

"Would you like to get undressed beforehand, or..."

"No. Start now."

"All right." Charles clears his throat and...can't quite bring himself to.

"Remember I may fight it a bit," Erik says.

"Oh _god_ , I can't--"

"It's a _reflex_ , Charles. Also, part of the fun. Won't mean I don't want it. Page four of the contract, paragraph six, section two-c."

Charles laughs, because the fact that Erik knows him well enough to memorize that is reassuring.

"Okay," he says, and clears his mind, breathes and lets the rhythm of his breath wash away all the extraneous static and clutter of the background household noise, of the unimportant thoughts about anything else but this. Lets the rhythm take everything away except him, here, looking at Erik.

Erik who looks simply gorgeous, and Charles suddenly feels that he can _do_ this.

//take your shirt off//

Erik blinks, and his hands raise and then he abruptly shoves them down again, shuddering all over and frowning.

And there's the fighting, damn it. Charles takes a deep breath, reminds himself that Erik _wants_ this, that he has that in _writing_.

He collects up more...force, in his mind. He's never been able to explain this satisfactorily to anyone else, or to himself, really, but it feels like something growing, getting heavier, a hot wave ready to crest and break.

It's full and heavy and _done_ , and he shapes the force into a phrase, sends it out at Erik. Louder, but not _just_ louder, the words are more--metallic, somehow, this time. Letters carved in steel, but a kind that Erik can't move or bend.

//I said. TAKE. YOUR SHIRT. OFF.// He sends a picture with it too, Erik obediently peeling his turtleneck over his head.

Erik's upper lip curls in a sneer and his hands curl into fists and remain, shaking, down.

Charles _pushes_. And pushes, and pushes, and he's never used this much force on a single person before and he's afraid he's going to _break_ something, in Erik or in himself, and Erik's sweating and turning red and shaking but his arms aren't moving and Charles cannot, no, will not, do this much harder, just one more little push and then he's giving up, telling Erik they'll try something less dangerous. Sex while hanging in harnesses off Mount Everest, perhaps.

He gives that last push, and he's already begun pulling back from it a bit when he realizes that, oh god, Erik has somehow gone limp and lax while still standing, like a boxer sagging against the ropes. Erik's hips are cocked slightly, his smile has gone a bit drunken, and his hands grasp the bottom of his shirt, slowly pull it up over his head.

Charles is nearly undone by the attitude shift. He was expecting Erik to whip through his assignments in brisk military fashion, but this is _languid_. Not a word he's had occasion to associate with Erik before, but he likes them together.

"Touch yourself," Charles says, and Erik blinks at him and, oh, he was so distracted he said that out loud instead of—

//touch yourself//

Erik raises an eyebrow and, with a grandiose swoop of his arm, touches a finger to his nose. Even mind-controlled, he's a sarcastic bastard.

//okay, I'll be specific; stroke your nipples with your fingertips, you _ass_ //

Erik's smile goes dreamy again, his eyes a little unfocused, and he brings his hands to his chest, strokes lightly.

Charles can't help making a small noise. And really, that's plenty of foreplay, right there, he could happily go over and fuck Erik right now, but that's not the sort of thing they agreed on, more of a quick conclusion than Erik wanted.

//harder, pinch// and Erik does and Charles' mouth waters.

//kiss me//

Erik _strolls_ over. Ambles, even. It's so odd, watching Erik's body moving with such...lack of purpose and intent, of _mission_.

Erik puts his lips softly to Charles' mouth, and Charles waits to see if he's going to fulfill only the bare minimum of the order, if he's still fighting it at least mentally; but no, there's Erik's tongue, and Charles moans and can't resist grabbing Erik by the hips, pulling him closer.

Erik's not hard yet, which throws Charles for a moment--does he really _not_ want this?--but then Charles realizes—

//get excited// and god, he can feel Erik hardening instantly against him.

That's--dear god, that's, that's possibly the hottest thing Charles has ever done, and he's instantly picturing doing it again. In private, in public, across the dinner table with all the other mutants there, sending out //get incredibly aroused, Erik, instantly get so hard you're aching and having to struggle not to come//

He would never in a million years get permission for _that_. But good Christ, what a fantasy.

He takes a deep breath and stores away that fantasy for later, reminds himself to be here for Erik _now_.

Erik who's still kissing him and is slowly rocking his hips, rubbing his erection against Charles'. Right.

Charles grips him by the hips and gently moves him away an inch or two, and Erik _whimpers_. Good god.

//rest of your clothes off, then on your back on the bed//

Erik slowly works at his belt, and slurs out, "Whattabout you?" He _sounds_ drunk and it's a bit off-putting, makes Charles feel like he's taking advantage of someone who's sloshed, brings back up all those questions of does Erik really _want_ this and he does, Charles _knows_ that, so--

//don't speak//

Erik nods.

Charles has gotten many people to obey him before, in emergencies. Including many people who didn't want to. Gotten them to do huge, important things that saved lives.

That little nod from Erik? _That_ was a power trip.

Erik slowly, slowly strips, and Charles wonders if he's still fighting it a little, taking it extra slow as a protest or perhaps just to be difficult. But no, Erik simply seems loose-limbed and dreamy.

When he's naked--and Charles should be used to the muscles by now, but no, he is not--he turns and walks to the bed, and Charles gets to enjoy the bunching and flexing of his ass.

Erik stretches out as per orders, and Charles takes a moment to just appreciate. //jerk yourself off until you're almost there, then stop// he sends, finally.

Erik goes right to it, none of the teasing or finesse he might usually incorporate, just a tight grip and a fast stroke. Charles kicks his shoes off, goes over to the bed and stretches out next to him. Otherwise he's still completely dressed; he's not sure he's ever been like that before, with Erik fully stripped. Much as he would enjoy Erik's hands on him, the discrepancy is arousing in itself.

Erik's hips are coming off the bed now, he's shivering slightly, but it's odd because he's not making any noise--usually, for such a tightly controlled man, he's surprisingly vocal in bed.

Oh, right--

//don't talk, but make any noises you need to//

Erik instantly moans, loudly and with every appearance of great...sincerity. Charles ducks his face into Erik's hair and grins.

Erik stops stroking, just lies there trembling, meaning he must be very close.

//hands by your sides// and because he is a bit of a bastard, Charles adds //palms up, relaxed// because otherwise he knows Erik would try to make it a bit easier to control himself by clinging to the sheet.

//leave them there, relaxed, while I touch you, but don't come//

Charles just runs his fingertips up Erik's cock, gently, delicately, over and over. Erik bites his bottom lip and groans, and the rest of his body shudders, but his hands and arms stay still, limp, fingers softly cupped, as if they belonged to someone else, someone who wasn't being heartlessly teased. It's amazing.

Charles wonders if he could send //lose your erection// and it would work. Not that he wants to do that, tonight, but he's curious; something to try later, if he ever gets to do this again. It should be possible, though, to keep him in this state of arousal, long after he would normally have gone over the edge.

He considers, briefly, whether that was actually on the "okay" list or...more of an okay _manual_ , really, too many footnotes for a mere list, and decides that it's covered under the umbrella term of "teasing," which was certainly cleared.

//don't come// and he curls his hand around Erik's cock, tightens it, strokes. He means to watch, to see every instant of Erik's reactions, but as soon as he's got all that hot silky skin tight in his hand his mouth begins to water, and he can't resist curling down to get his mouth around the top of Erik's cock. Tastes so good, fits so perfectly, and Erik's moans take on a frantic quality as Charles strokes and sucks.

Perhaps if they do this again they would both enjoy prolonging Erik's agony even more, but for a first time Charles takes a little pity. He sits back up reluctantly and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Then he unzips his own pants, gets his cock out and starts to stroke. He’ll tease himself as badly as Erik, for as long as he can stand it, before he gives Erik permission to touch himself and come, or maybe Charles will give him permission to come and then Charles will bring Erik over the edge himself, with his hands or his mouth..

//stay just as hard as you are, stay right on the edge, watch what I’m doing to myself//

Erik makes a tiny, bitter noise, and Charles grins. He's pretty sure he'll be paying for this later--Erik is getting remarkably inventive with his magnetic talents--but it's entirely worth it, and besides, he _asked_ to be controlled, didn't he?

"I'm just giving you what you _want_ ," he says, and because he can never get away with this under ordinary circumstances, adds, "pet."

Even through the haze of control, Erik's gaze goes murderous, and Charles has to struggle not to giggle. He manages, however, and keeps on stroking, gently, softly, not anywhere near what he needs.

//you can talk now, but only if you want to beg//

And he's genuinely curious whether Erik can possibly want that, or is capable of doing it even if he wants to, even in this floaty pliant state. It feels like something large and painful has broken loose inside Charles' chest when Erik starts _instantly_.

"God, yes, please Charles, I need to come, now now now, please, I'm _aching_ , I'm _dying_ to come, please let me..."

Charles savors that astonishing string of words for a moment; savors the whole bizarre situation, really. They're not even touching each other right now; lying here separated by a couple of inches, Charles lightly stroking his own cock and Erik not doing anything at all except continuing to _beg_ , and Charles is not sure he has ever been this turned on in his entire life. It feels like every tiny nerve in his body is firing off; his skin prickles all over, a slight stinging like a sunburn, but good, so good.

He can't help speeding it up a little bit, wrapping his hand fully around his cock, squeezing a little, stroking.

//here have this// and he shares the way he's feeling, the heat and the sting and his hand on himself so good, with Erik. Erik moans and thrashes a little.

Charles speeds up more, can't resist, tightens his hand and pulls. His breathing is loud and ragged and Erik's has fallen into perfect time with it, and Charles wonders if he _did_ that to Erik or it just happened, but he can't think about it for too long right now, not with the way everything's building and building and peaking and oh, god, any second now, he's not going to be able to stand it, but he doesn't want to go over alone, any second now he's going to reach over and get his other hand on Erik, send //it’s okay, you’re allowed// and--

Wait, wait. He doesn't even need to do that. He could probably just--

//roll toward me//

Erik does, and Charles gets on his side too, and they're facing each other, still not touching. Erik's breath is warm on his lips, though, from just a couple inches away.

The urge to kiss and to do more, more, _more_ is frantic, but Charles shoves it away; he has an _experiment_ to conduct, here. Something new to try.

"I'm not going to touch you," he says, out loud, sure that Erik can feel the words breathed out so close to his own mouth. Erik's eyes flutter open and he moans.

“I’m not going to give you permission to come, either,” he says, and Erik’s eyes widen and for the first time all night he looks _frightened_. God, that’s--Charles feels a lot of ways about that, and _most_ of them are bad, so he rushes to--

//I’m giving you an _order_ to come// and Erik’s back arches.

//and no, that wasn’t it//

Erik bites his own lip, hard. There’s blood, and he’s panting hard now.

//watch me and come when I do//

Charles licks his own hand, thoroughly and lasciviously, watching Erik watching him, and goes back to jerking himself off. And this time there's no delay, no teasing of either of them; he goes for it as desperately as if he were a child again. (He was...precocious in that regard; access to adult thoughts would have made it difficult to be otherwise.)

He jerks hard, and fast, and he knows it won't take long, not like this, not with Erik waiting for him and breathing on him and, god, _unable_ to do anything but wait for him and breathe on him, but even knowing that he's surprised by his orgasm, blindsided, and he's coming on Erik's chest and yes, _yes_ , Erik throws his head back and makes a choking noise and comes all over Charles.

Charles can’t move or even really think for a couple of minutes; his brain is full of the best sort of white noise, a comforting warm static. Finally he stretches, shakes his head a bit to clear it, and realizes that Erik still looks spaced out.

He should bring Erik out of it right away, he really should, but he can’t resist reaching out and just _petting_ him in a way Erik rarely has patience for in his normal state.

He strokes his thumb across Erik's cheekbone, cups his face for a moment, just stares for a moment at Erik's hazy gaze and calm smile, then runs his fingertips through Erik's hair, always surprisingly soft.

Erik makes a soft but deep rumbly noise. He sounds like a panther attempting unsuccessfully to impersonate a lap cat, and Charles can't help laughing. He needs to end this, though, if he is to have any hope of ever getting to do it again.

It seems to call for some sort of formal declaration, so, ridiculous though he feels, he sends out, //I release you//

Erik blinks rapidly, shakes his head a bit, then smiles. "I _release_ you? Bit pompous, Charles, considering how sticky we both are."

"Ah, perhaps we should write a script next time, in addition to the contract," Charles says, and wonders if he slipped the assumption that there would be a next time past without Erik noticing it. Probably not.

"I think your improvisation was just fine," Erik says, cupping a hand around the back of Charles' neck and pulling him the tiniest bit closer to bump foreheads.

"So...it was okay for you?" Charles whispers against Erik's lips. It had clearly _worked_ in the sense that Erik _came_ , but as the glow of Charles' own orgasm fades he's getting a little nervous about whether there'll be some sort of backlash, whether Erik will be angry about being taken over, even if he asked for it.

"It was...intense," Erik says, and Charles closes his eyes. Erik grabs his chin gently, shakes him a little. " _Good_ intense, idiot. It was--you surprised me, how you ran things at the last there. I don’t usually like to be surprised, but...it was good.”

"Ah. Good. Good," Charles says, and then Erik surprises _him_ , by flicking his gaze at the chain from the overhead, pulling it to darken the room. And then again by bringing his warm lips to Charles' ear and murmuring, "Thank you."

//anytime//

Erik cups his hand around the side of Charles’ neck, rests his thumb along the front. Charles always finds that a bit disquieting, but he can see how Erik might need it, tonight.

//sleep tight// and he didn’t mean that as an order but apparently it came out that way; Erik’s hand goes lax and his breathing slides into dreamy slowness.

Charles smiles into the darkness. He gently lifts Erik’s hand off his neck and slides it to his waist, and matches his breathing to Erik’s until the dreams let him in too.

\--end--


End file.
